A is for Androgyny
by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa
Summary: A is for androgyny, but what do the other twenty five letters of the alphabet stand for? And what exactly does it mean for our genius detective? Series of unconnected oneshots about L, lust and love. L/Matt, L/Mello, L/Near
1. A is for Androgyny

A is for Androgyny 

By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

Author Notes: So, this comes from my insatiable lust for all things L. In this story, I'm going to be building up twenty six one-shots of my favorite weird pairings involving L: L/Matt, L/Mello, and L/Near. That's right; all three of them will be in this. You slut, L! But no, each character is in their own little world with L, and there is no copious L cheat-age. I wouldn't allow it. Anyway, to make sure that you all know the pairing, I'll be putting it up in the warning every chapter. 

**Warning: L/Matt yaoi. That means sexual relationships between two men... they both have penises, you see, and I do not wish to have flames should you continue to read. This chapter is pretty tame compared to what it was supposed to be, but still, things will get to that wonderful red M sooner than later.**

Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-, do not own, think I own, or will ever or Death Note. If I did... trust me, you'd know. 

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**A is for Androgyny**

Matt felt the pressure of the thick blanket against his bare thighs. It was warm, like the body spooned against him, a hardening member between the two. Matt turned over, the material twisting around his feet. What would he give to stay in L's bed for another century?

They didn't need words to show their emotions and passion; all L had to do was lean forward, his body brushing just the right way as he his his head below Matt's tufts of red hair. The goggles lay on the floorboards, Matt noticed after a moment. He snickered, putting one sweaty hand to his hair, ruffling it. 

L's breath tickled his throat and the boy could feel himself involuntarily shudder. What he could do to make the man love him? Was it possible, or just a fickle dream of a child and his idol? 

Would it matter, in the end? L was a mastermind, a genius hidden behind soft hair and onyx eyes that never seemed to dull. What could Matt ever be? His whore, a lackey, a _subordinate_? 

He opened his mouth and nothing came out. Vocal paralysis was not uncommon when the red-head was around L (or, as his hormones completely took over, paralysis of actual words, noises, grunt and moans permissible) but this, _this_, was a horrid time. He wanted to say something witty, something that would make L laugh and snuggle closer. Matt wanted to feel the pulsing member between his legs and the one pressing against him to let forth a river of lust and love. L wanted it; Matt could tell, but it would never work if Matt stayed silent. Sometimes he hated the magic L cast over him, a spell that left his numb in every place but his heart and groin. 

"You're rather beautiful," L placed a chaste kiss on the red-head's cheek. Matt felt his face heat up and he turned, looking down in the direction of his feet. "Why do you turn from me, Matt? Do you not wish for my words?" 

"I..." Matt sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, unknowingly drawing blood until the taste filled his mouth. Copper and thick, like sucking on dirty pennies. 

L leaned forward once again, licking a small trace of the blood from the teenager's lips. "When you have that look of your face," he started, unraveling his arm from the blanket and running his fingernails through Matt's tresses, slick with sweat, "you look like an angel. Such androgynous lips..." he ran a trail from his hairline down to the boy's lips, the pads of his fingers playing with the supple orifice. "They would make even the most religious of man bend backwards and in half to touch. I am privileged, truly, to have you by my side. Matt—you will not be a person in the crowd, nor another nameless orphan. Matt, I named you myself..." 

"My name is Matt." The boy said, an echo of himself. 

"Yes; you are Matt, my androgynous angel." 

"Can I have a pair of kick-ass black wings?" The childishness came back into his voice. 

L snickered and ran his fingers lower, down to a place no angel would dare to be touched. 

"If you so desire, than so be it." 

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**Yeah. That's the first chapter, letter A is complete! **

**Teaser: Banister: L/Near**

**Please Review! **


	2. B is for Banister

Author Notes: And here is the next letter! B, what a wonderful letter, especially for Near. Oh, and talking about B's... I'll be putting up an rather... er, interesting one-shot that revolves around 'Another Note' so if you care, when it is finally finished, maybe you could read it? Granted, I'd suggest reading the book first. It was surprisingly good—kinda pissed at the price tag, but good none the less. Also leaves a lot of potential for yummy slashin' for me.

**Warning: Nothing too much is this wonderful little L/Near chapter. It's actually kind of... cute. There is basically no sexual content, except for extremely light touching that would probably be able to pass off as not even sexual. Trust me, I'm going easy for the first few so I can grasp and be able to really make the blood flow. **

**Notice: This was edited/betaed by l0onyl0opylupin! She's amazing, really! Score for her. **

Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa, do not own, think I own, or will ever own Death Note. If I did, you'd know. Trust me on that one.

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**B is for Banister**

"Near, I believe it would be in your best interest if you were to leave your puzzle alone for at least a short while," L stated as he slouched back in the chair, digging his toes into the plush furnishing. Most of the chairs at Wammy's tended to be more on the uncomfortable side, hard wooden backs for teaching children to sit upright, but that particular chair in the playroom was L's little piece of heaven. He sat in that chair every day, but today would be different, the detective thought as he pushed himself out of the chair, the softness an evanescent memory.

"Why?" the boy asked as he placed a blank puzzle piece into the correct slot, finishing the puzzle for the third time in under twelve minutes. "I thought that you were fond of sitting here; you drink that tea and stare at my puzzle. I finish my puzzle and then begin again. May I ask why this is not in my best interest?" The boy pulled at his unruly white-blonde hair, tilting his head to the side.

L stretched before shoving his hands into his pockets, back hunched. "Just please come with me, Near. I believe you may find use of this in the near future, forgive the pun."

"Fine," the boy said, placing his finger that had been previously playing with a lock of his hair against his lip. He picked the corner of the puzzle up and sent the pieces spraying across the floor, another jigsaw puzzle that needed to be once again created. "I would hope there is an adequate reason for this, and because you are L, and will come."

The boy stood awkwardly, shuffling his pajama-clothed bottoms across the carpeted floors. His doe-black eyes darted to the ground and he followed behind L, who was heading down past all of the rooms and toward the staircase. His unclothed feet reminded the pale-haired boy of a newborn, and how when they came out there was nothing but their mother's gore across their skin. Near knew the basics of reproduction, but it was difficult for him to comprehend that he had a mother, or that L, who was as awkward as Near knew he himself was, could possibly have been something other than the detective he was now.

L stopped before the stairs and removed his left hand from his pocket, running it over the smooth surface of the banister. "Near, do you know what uses a banister holds?"

"To allow a person with an unsteady balance to hold onto something to prevent falling," Near stated, the words strange on his tongue. "May I ask why, L?"

"You wish to ask, 'Is this important, or are you finally going senile?', correct, Near?"

The boy sat down near L's feet, wishing desperately for some sort of toy. L would want to explain whatever importance a banister held, and there would be about a point four percent chance that the detective would allow Near to leave to bring back some toys. Even a finger puppet would suffice.

"Or perhaps you are wishing for a toy..." the man inquired, turning to look down at Near. The boy could feel those black piercing eyes on him, trailing from his eyes down to his throat...

"I believe I would like a toy,"

"Then stand up," L motioned for Near to stand and come closer. Hesitantly the boy stood and squirmed into the older man's embrace, feeling the black-haired man, opposite to himself, pick him up and place him on the banister with a small indignant squeak. "What was that sound?" He asked as he scratched his head with one hand, supporting Near with the other.

"I... please..."

Near could feel his heart beating wildly against his chest to a beat that was not safe, and he wanted more than any toy in the world for L to just take him from this banister, and that long, never-ending slide down. The wood was hard against his bottom and even though he could feel L's fingers, soft and somewhat comforting in an odd way, for expressions and emotions were hard enough to come by, he was not comforted as much as another person would be.

"What would you say if I told you this was a test, Near?" L leaned forward, whispering into Near's hair. "Would you be able to go down and forget that inane fear of heights if I informed you that you would be that much closer..."

Near shivered as the hand began to push, but the blonde refused to cry. He was still a child, and even though the only person who truly cared about winning was Mello, he would not dare cry in front of L. There were few things which could evoke such response from Near, and L had hit the hardest.

And he allowed himself to be pushed down the banister, the air hitting his face and eyes wide open...

He trusted that L wouldn't end up blundering and causing his premature death.

It was uncharacteristic for Near to show emotions around anyone, let alone the great Detective L, but for once it just didn't matter.

"Pretend this was a toyhouse and you were the doll..."

He couldn't have been hurt, because with every doll, every banister inside of a toyhouse, there was always and L behind the scenes, making sure he never fell to his death.

Maybe there were more uses to banisters.

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**So, how did you like it? **

**Teaser: Corruption L/Mello**

**Please Review! **


	3. C is for Corruption

Author Notes: Am I finally getting into smut? Yes! Score! You guys should have known I'd break out as soon as possible, and here she is.

**Warnings: Smutastic L/Mello! You know what that means... shota because of their ages ad all that jazz. It's quite dark and kind of sacrilegious. Whoops. Granted, I'm starting to think that this entire story is sacrilegious. Oh well; can't please them all, I guess. It's kind of creepy, too. I mean, it's Mello. Of course it's going to be a bit creepy. **

Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-, do not own, think I own, or will ever own Death Note. If I did... trust me, you'd know.

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**C is for Corruption**

Mello knew what corruption tasted like. It had the rot of a thousand dead children and curdled milk. It's very smell drove all those around it's epicenter insane, sending shock waves from one side to the other in a moment of excruciating darkness. The blonde teenager knew that corruption was his hands tied above his head and the tongue invading his body. Corruption was the moans that spilled from his mouth like the seed that ran in rivets down his thighs, warm and salty, like tear tracks on his face and onto his lips.

There was always that smell in his room, the smell of sex and sweat, of nights where sleep would not be granted and mornings of blood running thick from Mello's body. L wouldn't have done it if he hadn't pleaded so hard, for so long. The blood left him with the comfort that even people like him, cold sinners readying for Hell, could bleed like any other human. It made his body wake with excitement as it ran onto the bedsheets; they were always black, making it easier to hide certain stains.

This time Mello knew what to expect when L slipped into his room at midnight, even the night-light in the hallway had given up for the night, plunging the two into half-darkness. The moon was full and the window was open, sending a chill breeze fluttering against Mello's unclothed body. His silhouette, half hunched over, fingers already playing with the hem of his shirt, was forever burned into Mello's memory. It had once been the opposite way, so very long ago, but now the detective was bolder, drawn to the corruption he let unfold before his eyes.

Mello loved it.

L pulled his jeans down next, leaving them a puddle in the middle of the floor. Mello tossed the blanket back, giving the ebony-haired man ample room to get in. He smirked a tiny bit at how swiftly the detective moved; this was no longer a surprise or a ruby surrounded in glass. If someone reached in to nimbly grasp for the jewel, they would shed their blood everywhere, making it that much more difficult to find. Mello wondered how many times L had wanted to reach in to grab for him before he had mustered the courage.

The only thing left on his body was his crucifix. It never came off, and he always wondered, as L slipped into the sheets, pinning his hands in one hand to the pillow, if God watched as L would lick his nipples, down to his navel. He wondered if God could stomach what they did as the detective would slip his hand down, so slowly, excruciatingly slow, down his thigh, playing with the taunt skin. Would God sneer as he saw L's tongue and lips and teeth grinding against Mello's in sheer desperation?

Mello felt the only thing left in the world was for him to mock his God. He felt the crucifix grow warm on his skin when L slipped himself into his body, body jerking against the other man's as a moan escaped his lips. L grunted, a low sound that Mello nearly missed.

He knew L wanted to let go of his wrists, so the blonde panted out a quick order, only stopping when he made a slight whine and thrust against L. Oh God, did it ever feel right.

L stopped for the briefest of moments to slip the crucifix from Mello's chest, where his heart beat just below, and bound it around his wrists. He moved faster after that, their sounds intermingling, the clinking of the chain against the headboard only accented by their out of breath pants and moans and the slight creak of the bed mattress below them.

Breaths became even more frenzied, and the icy blue-eyed boy had the words of God on his tongue as the black-haired man came inside of him, Mello following shortly after, his seed coating their stomachs; the fruit of life, wasted so pointlessly.

Dipping his fingers into their mess, growing cold against their bodies slick with sweat and blood, Mello felt the cooling liquid against his lips and suckled like a newborn infant to his mother's breast.

This taste and the sound of God snarling was corruption in its highest form.

Mello smirked and sucked harder.

_Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.  
__I have been corrupted, tainted.  
__And I beg you, please, spare me.  
__For not even you could save me. _

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**Was that smutty enough to satiate you for a short while?**

**Teaser: Discretion L/Near**

**Please Review! **


	4. D is for Discretion

Author Notes: Sorry about this taking so long! I didn't mean to, I swear. I guess you can kill me if you want, but after I finish all of these stories I'm writing, please?

And so here is your next installment of A is for Androgyny!

**Warnings: Slight touching between Near and L. Or, well... yeah. Way less smutty than the last chapter.**

Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-, do not own, think I own, or will ever own Death Note. If I did... trust me, you'd know.

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D is for Discretion

Near did not look up from his toy when L entered the playroom. Normally he would have, at least, stared up for a moment and given a brief nod of his head, but now... now he wasn't certain that his head would not come off his shoulders. A doll's head popped off, like Mello had a tendency of doing to all of his new toys that L bought him.

"Near," the black-haired detective squatted down, looking at Near. The boy felt himself tremble, even as he continued to play with his toys. He refused, utterly _refused_ to look up from the doll that he was mashing against the ground. One of the arms popped of in his frustrated play, but Near never looked up. "Near," L repeated, waving his hand back and forth.

"Yes?" the white-haired boy snatched the arm and shoved it back into place. "What is it, L?" His words were like chips of ice that no thirteen-year-old should have had, yet it did not matter. Not now. Not after... _that_.

L sat down and pulled a chocolate bar from his back pocket. He snapped it in half and waved one half in front of Near, who didn't look up. He wasn't known to be stubborn, rather passive if anything, but Near wanted L to... He wanted L to be...

"I apologize for the scene you witnessed earlier," the detective was saying as he snapped a piece of chocolate off in his mouth, the other half melting in his pinched fingers. "Would you please take the chocolate, Near?"

Quietly Near placed his doll down, the arm once again coming loose. Before he took the chocolate, eyes trained on the ground, Near picked up the small arm and slipped it into his pocket. He knew that if he dared look up, oh, how he would turn scarlet. It didn't fit his face, pale and wide and so cold. Red wasn't meant for his skin.

"I want to also explain to you, perhaps, what was going on."

"I know exactly what was going on," Near interrupted as took a bite. The chocolate didn't taste sweet or salty or anything, really. "The books we read back in _that_ class taught me what it was."

He could practically _feel_ K staring into his hair, trying to see his eyes and what exactly he was thinking. "It's common." Near began, placing the bar of chocolate down on the white carpet. "Doing that... but I never have."

_Foolish thing to say,_ Near thought as he heard L come closer, and he wanted more than anything to back up.

L's hand came in contact with Near's pajama pants, and the boy muttered something under his breath. Near didn't know what he said, but L seemed to believe it was something akin to 'Continue,', for he did not stop.

"Do you wish to understand what I was doing?" L whispered. The older man pushed Near down into the carpet, and now there was nothing the boy could do _but_ look into his mentor, his idol's eyes.

"I..." Near started, but was interrupted as the door to the playroom opened and Mello stormed in.

"You stole my chocolate!" The blonde screeched, his eyes wide in fury. "You filthy, rude bastard! Just 'cause you're L's favorite doesn't mean that you can go and jack _my_ favorite—" He stopped, Near noticed as he snapped his eyes to the blonde teenager, whose mouth hung wide. "Wha—what?"

L coughed and leaned up, staring at Mello. "Perhaps this is not the best time, Mello. And it was I who, as you put it, 'jacked' your chocolate. I was hungry and Watari had run out of chocolate cake. If you wish, the both of us shall go to the chocolate story later this evening. Now, if you would," the detective motioned to the door, "I was teaching Near a very important lesson on discretion."

Mello left, dumbfounded, and Near could understand exactly how the ebony-haired detective was explaining _discretion_ of all things.

"See," L showed the small toy's arm between his fingers. "You need to be aware of everything around you, Near, so you are able to understand everything."

"But... but I thought you were talking about the bathroom."

This time L looked quizzical. "I was teaching you about when you wandered into Mello's room this morning and saw me taking Mello's chocolate. What is this about a bathroom?"

And there came the blush that Near had tried to hide from his superior. "Oops."

"Oh." L grabbed the chocolate that Near had left, shoving all of it into his mouth. "_That_."

"Well, masturbation is normal, L. Do not worry about such... things." Near looked back down at his armless doll. "However, please lock the door next time."

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**Haha, how many of you expected that? I sure as heck didn't.  
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**Teaser: Enter L/Mello**

**Please Review! **


	5. E is for Enter

Author Notes: I really am sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. Really. I kind of forgot to write it, but now it's done and it is updated!

**Warnings: It's L and Mello. And the very name of the chapter should hint that it's not going to be a picnic with the flowers. It's the beginning of a very smutty night... which will actually go into the the next chapter. **

Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-, do not own, think I own, or will ever own Death Note. If I did... trust me, you'd know.

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E is for Enter

Mello could see that no one was going to come into the kitchen any time soon, so he set out to work before anyone could be bothered to wake from their sleep. The room was desolate of even the mice that occasionally took residence in the large mansion orphanage when the weather became cold. While he wasn't sure how long it would last, considering what he was about to do.

L hadn't said anything, but Mello knew that there was something wrong with the detective. He wasn't as enthusiastic anymore about anything, really. The case, the one that had started with the murder of a French military man, was grating on the man's sexual urges. While it was wrong to interrupt L's work time, which was far too early in the morning for him and Mello to have anything beside a cold encounter. It wasn't bad, but it just wasn't the same. All their sexual frustrations weren't getting out and Mello could see L visibly tense.

So, it was an idea that was practically fool proof. The cake, chocolate frosting drizzled down the side, a thin turtle shell through the middle, which would melt in L's mouth as he chewed, and Mello could already taste the sweet semen in his mouth and the bitterness of the chocolate. Compared L's body, anything was bitter beside it.

Quickly Mello pulled the cake out of the pantry, where he had hidden it away from the prying and insatiable children. It would have been ruined, his entire plan falling down the drain if he didn't have the main component to his plot. It was a plot to slake both L's hunger and lust. Now all he needed was for L to enter the kitchen.

Mello pulled out his phone, dialing L's number, letting it ring twice, as expected.

"Yes, Mello?" L asked. His voice was cool and without much emotion behind it.

"I cut open my hand," Mello whimpered as he cut the cake down the middle, a bit of chocolate getting on his fingers as he pulled the pieces apart. "It hurts, and there's blood and Mister Wammy'll hurt me if he knew that I was handling things I wasn't supposed to." Mello made sure that his voice shook. "I need someone to help staunch the bleeding. It hurts,"

Mello could hear the chair scrape across the phone over the telephone. "Where are you, Mello?" L asked, without so much as a inclination in his voice. It was just as straightforward as usual.

"The kitchen. I wanted to get some candy, and I didn't see the knife in the sink." He hissed and continued to slice the cake into ribbons.

"I will be there in a moment. Hold pressure to the wound and raise it to your chest. That should help constrict the blood." And with that Mello successfully tricked the most popular, smarted, the damn sexy L into the sack.

Oh, this was going to be fun. The blonde slipped off his pants and put the knife in the sink before continuing to strip, tossing his clothes to the corner of the room before preparing himself for his fun. The cold kissed his skin and the the chocolate ribbons adorning his stomach made Mello feel as if he was a cake topper, one damn seductive cake topper.

When L knocked on the door, to signify that it was him and not one of the other older caretakers, the blonde let out a soft, 'Enter,"

Mello could see from the soft light radiating from above the long rows of ovens, and he spread his pliant legs a little wider.

"What are you doing?" L asked, but it was quite obvious what Mello was doing.

"I'm seducing you, love," Mello purred, stretching his finger over his stomach, feeling the detective's eyes all over him. "And there's cake on me and I just can't get it off. Would you mind licking it off, perhaps?"

L shook his head, and the blonde could see that the man was uncomfortable. "You shouldn't have done this, Mello. There's cake everywhere. It's such a waste of good chocolate cake, too." The man sounded mournful.

"There's plenty here, if you want it." Mello took a ribbon of cake between his fingers, erotically placing it over his arousal. "If you want to pay for it, of course."

"And what is this price you speak of?" L took a step forward.

"I want you to enter me, of course."

"Of course, Mello," and L leaned forward, capturing the blonde's mouth in a deep kiss, fingers ready to explore Mello's tight and wet body.

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**Hehe. How many of you wanted to see it end? Well, that's why there's the next chapter, to complete this one. **

**Teaser: Fingers L/Mello**

**Please Review for the sake of more actual smut! **


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